The Guardian

Ryan grabbed my shoulders as I started to shake. The small picture fell onto the blood covered floor, showing my white long bearded dad in chains, barely being able to hold himself up; locked inside a cage that only gave him enough space to sleep and eat.
I leaned against him, “That’s not him. He’s not that old,” I felt tears escape down my cheeks, "or weak"
Ryan nodded, his eyes a beautiful ocean blue, “It’s been years, Megan.”
“Can I see him?” I looked at him, wiping my tears away.
“Sure, but do you really want to go to hell?” he gave me a handkerchief.
“If that’s what it takes, then yes. I’ll go.”